


a matter of trust

by zach_stone



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Mild Angst, Pre-Canon, Sam-centric fic, Uncharted 4, Young Sam and Nate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: “Why are you here, Victor?”“Because somebody’s gotta keep an eye out for him.”Or, Sam and Sully have never quite seen eye to eye, especially when it comes to Nate. An exploration of young Sam over the years dealing with the fact that there's another mentor figure in Nathan's life.





	a matter of trust

**Author's Note:**

> somehow, despite grad school finals week coming up, i have managed to bang out another 4k+ word fic. procrastinating? absolutely. apparently sam angst fuels me and inspires me to write long-ass fics when i should be writing essays. what can ya do. 
> 
> anyway, this one goes out to SavageStarlight for inspiring me with their comment on my last fic!!! i've reread this 100 times at this point so is it any good? i sure don't know. hope you enjoy in any case!!

 “And then I just — _whoop!_ — grabbed it right out from under his nose!” Nathan was practically bouncing as he walked up the stairwell to Victor’s apartment. Sam took up the rear, hands shoved in his pockets and decidedly less bouncy.

“Hey, you wanna keep it down until we’re inside? Jeez,” Sam muttered.

Nathan looked momentarily crestfallen, but the expression was fleeting and then the fifteen-year-old was smiling again, turning his attention to Victor. “I did pretty great, right, Sully?”

Victor laughed ruefully, shaking his head. “It was a decent lift, kid. Your technique’s gettin’ better every time.” He reached forward to unlock the front door, and the three of them filed inside. As soon as Sam had shut the door behind them, Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out the object of their latest heist: a three-inch gold sculpture of a bird. They’d snatched it from a museum display, and Victor was to deliver it to a buyer later that night. Nathan held it out for Sam to see.

“Pretty cool, huh?” he said proudly.

Sam took the artifact from his brother, turning it over in his hands. “Pretty cool,” he agreed. “Still don’t see why I had to wait in the car,” he added, shooting an annoyed look at Victor. The older man was spreading out papers he’d received from the buyer on the kitchen table, and he barely spared Sam a glance.

“We needed a quick getaway,” Victor said, an air of exhaustion in his voice. Sam may or may not have been griping about this all day. “And your brother’s a terrible driver. No offense, kid.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Nathan mumbled.

“Besides,” Victor added, straightening up to stare pointedly at Sam. “Nate needed the practice. You almost never let me teach him, but the kid’s gotta learn somehow.” He did little to hide the disapproval in his voice, and Sam scowled. Nathan seemed oblivious to all of this, as he’d wandered over to the table and was now poring over the documents strewn across it.

“So this sculpture,” Nathan said thoughtfully. “What d’you think, pre-Columbian?”

“Mm,” Victor hummed in agreement. “Buyer reckons it’s somewhere around 1400 CE, give or take.”

“Whoa,” Nathan breathed.

Sam, still irritable, flopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the arm and leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. He held up the artifact, frowning at it like it had done him a personal offense. Nathan and Victor were now deep in conversation, Nathan’s voice pitched with excitement. Sam tossed the artifact in the air and caught it again. There had been a time when it would’ve been just him and Nathan, shooting theories back and forth and feeling the electric buzz of exhilaration that came from a good find, a job done well. Nights spent reading through their mother’s journals for the dozenth time, pausing at certain drawings or passages and trying to parse their meaning. They’d been so in sync, they could finish each other’s thoughts before they’d even spoken them aloud. Victor and Nathan were filled with that same energy now, and Sam felt resentment settle like a stone in his guts.

“Hey.” Victor was suddenly looming above him, snatching the artifact that Sam had been idly tossing and catching. “Try not to break the merchandise before we get our payday, alright?”

Sam sat up, frowning deeply. He did a lot of frowning these days. Glaring, too. Ever since Victor Sullivan showed up with Nathan in tow to pick Sam up from prison and then decided to overstay his welcome in their lives. The last thing Sam needed was someone trying to be his dad. He was an adult, for Christ’s sake! At least Victor saved the nicknames for Nathan. Sam was pretty sure he’d have an aneurysm if Victor called _him_ “kid.”

“I wasn’t gonna break it,” he told Victor petulantly. Victor just grunted and set the artifact on the table. Nathan finally tore his gaze away from the documents to look at his brother, and his smile faltered slightly at the expression on Sam’s face.

“I’m gonna go pick up dinner,” Victor announced. “Pizza okay with you two?”

“Oh man, yeah! Can we get pineapple on it?” Nathan said.

Victor barked out a laugh. “Absolutely not. Be right back.” He headed out the door with a little wave. Sam slouched into the couch cushions.

Nathan came over to sit beside him. For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Nathan said hesitantly, “I’m sorry you couldn’t come inside with us.”

“S’all good. Wasn’t your call,” Sam said.

“It… it wasn’t _that_ cool, anyway. You probably would’ve been bored.”

When Sam glanced sidelong at Nathan, his younger brother looked guilty. That just made Sam feel awful, and he straightened up, bumping his shoulder against Nathan’s. “Hey, no, don’t say that. I bet it was awesome. You’re getting really good at this, Nathan.”

“You think so?” Nathan said hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Sam said. He slung his arm around Nathan’s shoulders and gave him a quick hug. “I’m proud of you, little brother.”

Nathan shoved him off, embarrassed, but he glowed with unmistakable pride. Sam smiled to himself. This was how it should always be, just the two of them. They didn’t need anyone else — certainly not Victor Sullivan. 

\-- 

Sam was panicking. He was doing a decent job of hiding it, putting on a calm older-brother face for Nathan, but internally he was freaking out. He’d been dropping off intel to a client for Victor, and had come back to the hotel they were staying at to find Nathan alone, sprawled on one of the beds and sweating, a clear look of pain on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Sam said, dropping his bag by the door and hurrying over to Nathan’s side. “Are you hurt?”

“My stomach,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. “Feels really bad. I threw up twice.”

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. He put a hand to Nathan’s forehead and winced at how hot his skin was. “You’re burnin’ up. Where the hell is Sullivan?”

“I don’t know. He said he was going out,” Nathan said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, squinting his eyes open to look at Sam. “Am I dying?”

“What? ‘Course you’re not. Probably just food poisoning or something, right?” Sam said, trying to reassure himself as much as Nathan. His brother really did look awful, and going to the hospital wasn’t always an option when you’d just committed a few felonies in the same neighborhood. What did you even do for stomach bugs? Sam was okay at dealing with colds, and a pro at curing hangovers, but he was floundering here. “Uh, I’ll… get you some juice?” he offered.

“Ugh,” Nathan said unhelpfully, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach. Sam went over to the mini bar and opened the fridge. There wasn’t a whole lot that was useful, unless red wine was a good cure for puking. He grabbed a can of Pepsi and popped it open, taking it back over to the bed.

“Here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding out the drink. “Maybe this’ll help.”

Nathan sat up and gingerly took a sip. He immediately spit it back into the can. “Ew, what is that?”

“It’s — it’s soda, Jesus! You didn’t have to spit in it, what are you, five?” Sam grumbled, setting it on the bedside table. Nathan just gave him a pitiful look, and Sam sighed. He mentally kicked himself for not being better at this shit.

Just then, the door to the hotel room opened, and Sam jumped to his feet. Victor bustled through the door with a couple plastic grocery bags hanging off his arm. “Oh, you’re back,” he said to Sam, nodding in greeting. “How’d it go?”

“Where the hell were you?” Sam demanded, crossing the room to stand in front of Victor and puffing out his chest. “Leaving him alone when he’s in this state?”

“Easy,” Victor said, shoving the door closed with his foot and raising his free hand in surrender. “I went to get some supplies for ‘pukey’ over there. I told you I was going to store, kid,” he added to Nathan.

“Oh,” Nate said, sounding a bit sheepish. “I forgot.”

Sam rolled his eyes, deflating a little as he stepped back to let Victor pass. Victor dumped his grocery bags on the bed opposite Nathan’s.

“Now let’s see what we’ve got,” Victor said. “Ginger ale —” He held up a small bottle. “That’ll help settle your stomach. Chicken broth for when you’re feeling up to it. Chamomile tea to help you sleep. This, uh, Pedialyte shit — lady at the pharmacy recommended it,” he added. He shifted on the bed to look across at Nathan, smiling warmly. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time, boy-o.”

“Thanks, Sully,” Nathan croaked. He sat up in bed a little. “Can I have some of that ginger ale?”

“Sure thing, kid.” Victor stood up, unscrewing the lid of the bottle and passing it to Nathan. He caught sight of the open can of Pepsi and picked it up, frowning. “Were you drinking this?” he asked.

“Sam gave it to me,” Nathan said, taking a hesitant swig of the ginger ale.

Victor looked over at Sam, who was standing against the wall with his arms crossed. “Caffeine and sugar are both terrible for vomiting,” Victor informed him. “Just makes things worse.”

“Oh, well excuse me for not having a pharmacy in the mini bar,” Sam retorted. He pushed away from the wall and stomped over to the other end of the room, dropping onto the couch. He heard Victor sigh, and a moment later the man was taking a seat beside him, still holding the Pepsi can.

“Something on your mind, Samuel?” he said in a lower voice, so Nathan couldn’t hear.

Sam glanced sideways at him, clasping his hands together. “I can take care of him myself,” he muttered finally.

Victor huffed through his nose in amusement. “Right, you were doing a great job.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I’m not trying to insult you,” Victor said. He set down the Pepsi can and placed a fatherly hand on Sam’s shoulder. “All I’m saying is, you’re practically still a kid, too. It’s okay to accept help once in a while, you know?”

Sam shrugged him off, leveling him with a hard stare. “We were doing just fine on our own,” he said coolly.

“Oh, sure,” Victor said, sounding irritated now. “You in prison while your brother wanders the streets and almost gets himself killed.”

Sam winced. Victor’s words felt eerily similar to those spat at him by Sister Catherine. _You’re a bad influence. A bad seed. You’re leading him down a dangerous road. Just because you’ve thrown your life away, Samuel, doesn’t mean you get to destroy his, too._

He’d scoffed, then, brushing the nun’s insults aside with a sneer and a quick retort. But her words had burrowed under his skin and made a home there, rising to the surface every time he fumbled, every time Nathan was unhappy. And every time Victor gave him the pitying look he was giving him now. Sam set his jaw and looked away, and Victor stood up with a weary sigh. As the other man walked back over to check on Nathan, Sam dropped his head into his hands. The one job he had was to prove Sister Catherine wrong and take care of his brother. If he couldn’t even do that, what good was he? 

\-- 

For the first time in several hours, Sam felt like he could breathe easy. They’d just finished their third job in a row without being chased or shot at — that had to be a record of some kind. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was also their third job in a row with Victor Sullivan. Sam couldn’t deny that they got into a lot less trouble on the jobs which Victor helmed. And after the most recent stint of Drake brothers’ solo missions left Sam with a few new scars and Nathan with his first extended trip to a prison cell, this had been a welcome stretch of successes.

Nathan and Sam were practically giddy as the trio walked into the house Victor was borrowing from a friend. The kitchen filled with their laughter and talking over each other, Victor leaning against the counter and watching them both with an amused smile. When Sam rooted around in the fridge and produced a bottle of champagne, however, Victor’s smile faded.

“Now what do you think you’re doing with that?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Um, drinking it?” Sam said. “C’mon, Victor, we’re celebratin’! Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah!” Nathan agreed eagerly, eyeing the bottle with glee. “Your friend won’t mind if it’s just one bottle, right, Sully?”

“Oh, you’re having some too, huh?” Victor said. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, kid.”

Nathan’s face fell, and Sam immediately interjected. “’Course he can have some. One glass isn’t gonna hurt him.”

He and Victor locked eyes, feeling the familiar tension as they both tried to play the part of authority figure in Nathan’s life. After a moment, Victor acquiesced. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Take it easy, though.”

Nathan whooped, and when Sam popped the cork, sending it rocketing across the kitchen, even Victor laughed.

 

They made it easily through the bottle of champagne between the three of them — Nathan ended up having two and half glasses, becoming increasingly talkative until he eventually conked out on the couch with his feet pressed up against Sam’s side. Easing himself off the cushions, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a throw blanket to drape over his brother’s sleeping form. Nathan was nearing his sixteenth birthday now and would have been endlessly embarrassed to have his older brother tuck him in, but asleep he couldn’t protest, so Sam took a moment to secure the ends of the blanket around him.

“Sleep tight, little brother,” he said quietly. Nathan didn’t stir, and Sam smiled slightly before reaching his arms up in a stretch, yawning. He should probably try to get some shut-eye himself, but… his fingers strayed towards his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He made his way out to the back porch instead.

He’d been smoking alone, enjoying the quiet of the evening, for perhaps fifteen minutes before the back door slid open and Victor stepped out.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. Sam shrugged, eyes fixed on the lights of the city visible in the distance. Victor crossed to stand beside him, pulling out a cigar. “Got a light?”

“Sure,” Sam said, tossing Victor his lighter.

“Much obliged.” He lit up and passed the lighter back, and the two stood in a silence that Sam could almost call companionable.

After a few moments, Victor cleared his throat. “So listen, Sam… I got a tip-off about another job. Might take me a few weeks, maybe a month.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said. “Nathan and I can make do on our own for a bit.”

“Actually, I was hoping to have a partner on this one,” Victor said.

Sam’s cheerful buzz faded, and all at once he felt unpleasantly sober. Over the past couple of years, Victor and Nathan had gone on several adventures without him. Usually because he’d had jobs of his own to complete, but it still stung every time. “Right, I’ll just hang back and keep a light on for you and Nathan, shall I?” he said, voice dripping sarcasm.

“What? No, Sam, I want you on this one,” Victor said.

Sam turned to stare at him, eyebrows shooting up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. This client — last time I did a job with him, things got… kinda hairy. I’d rather not get the kid involved.”

“Huh.” Sam took a drag from his cigarette. Then he frowned again. “So what’s Nathan supposed to do by himself for all that time?”

“Well, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Victor said. “I’ve been thinking… maybe Nate should be enrolled in school. He’s smart — hell, in a couple years he could go to college.”

Sam snorted incredulously. “College? Why the hell would Nathan need to go to college?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to get an education? To make friends his own age?”

“Okay, okay. First of all, Nathan gets all the education he needs already — he’s probably smarter than any of the chumps at the local university. And second, where the hell’s all this coming from, huh?”

Victor sighed. “He’s just a kid, Sam.”

“You didn’t have much issue with that when you recruited him to be your partner in crime,” Sam said, laughing slightly in disbelief. “Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Victor conceded. “When I met your brother, I didn’t know shit about kids. Never much planned on being a father, but… well, here we are. I’m doing my best with you two. I just think —”

But something had turned over uncomfortably in Sam’s stomach the moment Victor alluded to being their father, and he cut the man off mid-sentence. “I got news for you, Victor. You’re not my dad, alright? And you sure as hell aren’t Nathan’s.” Victor remained impassive, but Sam saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. “He’d be miserable in school. This is what he’s meant for, and he’s damn good at it. So thanks for your input, but I think we’re good.” He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his heel. “And about this job of yours, you’ll have to find somebody else. Nathan and I have our own shit to do.”

Victor exhaled through his nose. “Right. Of course.”

Sam turned and went back inside. As he passed the couch, he saw that Nathan had burrowed deeper under the blanket, his face partially obscured. He looked younger in sleep, still a bit of baby face around his jaw and a healing bruise on his forehead from accidentally smacking into a wall a few days prior. Sam lingered a moment longer, a weight on his chest. Then he went into one of the bedrooms and tried fruitlessly to sleep. 

\--

“Victor, I never thought I’d say this, but you are a sight for sore eyes.” Sam spread his arms wide, grinning. Beside him, Nathan laughed. The cop escorting them was not so amused. Sam couldn’t blame her — he and Nathan were both prone to obnoxious banter, and the poor woman had been practicing some deep breathing exercises to refrain from knocking their heads together.

They’d only been locked up for three days before Victor bailed them out, nothing too dramatic, but Sam loved to milk his walks to freedom for all they were worth. And in the past decade since he and Nathan had started their adventuring life, he’d had many such walks. When he reached Victor, he slung an arm around him and gave him an exaggerated hug.

“Get offa me,” Victor grumbled. “You see these grey hairs? You two are the cause of at least 75 percent of these.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Sully,” Nathan said. “I hear the silver fox look is big right now.”

“And the decrepit grandpa,” Sam added. “Either way, you win.”

“Oh, you two are hilarious,” Victor deadpanned. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Sam made sure to wave cheerfully at the cop as they left, and she glared in response. When they reached the car, Victor said, “You seem in good spirits, at least. You both alright?”

“Eh, little scuffed up, but we’ll live,” Sam said. He nudged his brother. “Right, Nathan?”

“Ow! Watch the ribs, jerk,” Nathan said, wincing. “I got thrown off a balcony,” he added to Victor, sounding rather proud of himself.

“Congratulations,” Victor said, shaking his head. The three of them clambered into the car and Victor started driving, clicking on the radio. Taking advantage of the noise, Sam turned to speak to Nathan in a low voice.

“So listen,” he said. “I know we talked about taking a break after this, but… I think I’ve got something big.”

“You said that about the last five jobs,” Nathan pointed out, amused.

“This is for real, Nathan,” Sam insisted. Speaking even quieter, he said, “I know how to get us into the prison.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “Holy crap. Are you serious? How?”

Sam paused. This was the part where he might have to do some convincing. “Does the name Rafe Adler mean anything to you?”

“Adler?” Victor spoke up from the front. Sam sighed. He hadn’t realized the other man was listening. “His family owns some business empire, right? Weaselly little bastard, from what I’ve heard.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly. He already knew Nathan was going to be resistant, and this wasn’t helping. “Yeah, well, when they’re that rich they’re all bastards,” he said. He turned back to Nathan, whose expression was guarded now. “A couple months ago I did a job for him while you two were off doing whatever.” He did a poor job hiding the resentment in his voice, but he swallowed that down. “There was a lot of downtime, and he and I got to talking. Turns out he’s very interested in Avery’s treasure, too.”

“Great. So you’re saying we’ve got competition,” Nathan said.

“No,” Sam said, laughing slightly. “No, Nathan, I’m saying we’ve got a way _in_. That’s the thing about rich bastards,” he added to Victor. “They’ve got enough cash to pull off just about anything.”

Nathan looked unconvinced. “You want to bring someone else in? Split the treasure with some… some asshole?”

“You don’t even know him, why are you calling him an asshole?” Sam exclaimed. _Thanks a lot, Victor_ , he added mentally. “Look, I know it’s not ideal, but our options are pretty limited here, and this? This could work.” He put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, the urgent desire that he always felt when he talked about Avery’s treasure rising in his throat. “We’ve spent a decade stuck on this, and now we have an in. We’ve never been this close, Nathan. Just — just think about it, okay?”

The tension in the air was thick. Nathan said slowly, “You really trust this guy?”

Sam didn’t hesitate. Whether he trusted Rafe or not, he’d say whatever he needed to if it meant his brother agreed. “Yeah, I do.”

Nathan sighed. “This could work.”

“It _will_ work,” Sam said, resisting the urge to pump his fist. “If we play this right, we won’t even have to be on the inside for long.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said, and Sam could see the eagerness starting to shine in his brother’s eyes. “Sully, you up for another stint in prison?”

Before Victor could do more than chuckle, Sam interjected, brow furrowing. “Whoa, whoa, what are you talking about?”

“Your plan,” Nathan said.

“Okay.” Sam huffed out a laugh, more exasperated than amused, because of course. Of course Nathan would try to drag Victor along, too. “Nathan, this is our thing, remember? As in, _just_ you and me?”

“So what, Sully’s not invited, but some random jerk you just met is?” Nathan said, affronted.

“Unless Sully has a way to get us into the prison, then yeah, he’s not invited,” Sam said. “No offense, Victor.”

Victor didn’t respond beyond a grunt. He was clearly waiting to see how the argument would play out.

“This is bullshit,” Nathan said, his voice rising. “I don’t see why we can’t _also_ work with Sully, someone we both trust —”

“ _You_ trust him,” Sam cut him off. It just slipped out; he hadn’t meant to say it at all, certainly not while Victor was within earshot. Not that it was a secret. It was just something that was understood but never said.

Victor pulled over. Sam and Nathan had been practically shouting at each other a moment ago, but now the car was deadly quiet. Victor turned around in his seat, and his expression was unreadable.

“You can have your little squabble over whether or not to include me, I don’t really care,” he said gruffly. “But save it for when we’re home, got it? I don’t need you two duking it out in my car.”

“Right,” Sam muttered.

“Sorry,” Nathan said, looking away.

Victor started the car again, and they finished the ride in silence.

In the end, Sam won the argument, though Nathan remained wary of Rafe’s presence. When the time came to set their plan in motion, Nathan and Sam packed up what little they had strewn around Victor’s house and headed off to meet with Rafe. Victor pulled Sam aside as they were leaving.

“Keep an eye out for him when you’re in there, alright?” he said.

Sam regarded him coolly. “Obviously I will.”

“Right. Obviously.” Victor nodded. “Well, good luck.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sam hummed. “I’ll be seeing you, Victor.”

Of course, though he didn’t know it then, he would not be seeing Victor again for a very, very long time. 

\--

Nathan stepped out onto the balcony of their hotel room in Italy to make a call, and Sam just _knew_ Victor was dying to say something. He prodded, with his usual sarcasm, and when Victor phrased Sam’s years in prison as “time away,” Sam’s jaw clenched. And then he had the audacity to suggest that Sam blamed Nathan for what had happened.

“It took a long time for him to get out of this game,” Victor started.

Sam cut him off. “You see a gun to his head? He chose this, okay, he’s meant for this life.” The words tasted wrong in his mouth — hadn’t he had the same doubts Victor was voicing now? Why else would he be relying on an ever-mounting series of lies to get his brother to join him again in the first place? This was exactly why he’d never liked Victor Sullivan. The man could see right through him and point out every fuck-up he’d made when it came to his brother.

Predictably, Victor was unimpressed by Sam’s logic. “You really believe that?” he said.

Not wanting to go any further down that road, Sam changed tacks. “Why are you here, Victor?”

And then Victor paused, choosing his words carefully. “Because somebody’s gotta keep an eye out for him,” he said finally, gesturing to where Nathan stood outside.

It hit Sam like a gut-punch, the memory of Victor saying the same thing before they headed off to Panama, the way Sam had brushed him off so easily. That was supposed to be his one job, right? Keeping an eye out for his little brother? As Victor was not-so-subtly reminding him, he’d been fucking that up for a long time now.

He dropped his gaze, unable to find a rebuttal. Luckily, Nathan came back into the room at that moment, and Sam couldn’t hide a small smile when his brother confirmed that he was still in the game.

When Victor agreed as well, he and Sam shared a brief look across the table, and Sam got the message. Victor was in this to keep Nathan safe, had been picking up the slack where Sam had failed. But things would be different this time, Sam thought as they all clinked glasses. This time, he would make good on his promise to Victor from fifteen years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> some fun facts:  
> -the artifact nate stole in the first scene is based on a real thing i found while googling for ideas --> [here it is](http://articles.latimes.com/1995-03-26/news/mn-47356_1_museum-recovers)  
> -the last scene was somewhat inspired by the way IgnorantArmies retells scenes from in-game in "Blood Brothers," which is coincidentally one of the best fics i've ever read so pls go read it if you love sam angst as much as i do!!!
> 
> thanks so much for reading!! hmu in the comments if you so desire. and if you want to chat uncharted (bc i'm literally always screaming about it) you can follow me on tumblr at joshuawashinton or twitter at queensuperjelly !!


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